Escape Plan
by Eileen
Summary: Gabriel needed to get away from his brothers' constant fighting. Loki wanted to avoid his duties to his own dysfunctional family. Maybe . . . they could work this out.


Gabriel found Loki in an inn in the village of Skaarsgard. It wasn't a five-star establishment; a better description would have been "mud hovel." Hardly the place one expected to find a god. Yet here he was, holding court at a table in the back facing the crude leather flap that served as a door.

He spotted Gabriel and waved. "Come and join us, my friend!" There were three other men and a gaggle of beautiful women seated around the table. Gabriel came over and took the only empty chair, which was next to a luscious redhead. Gabe liked redheads.

He got right to the point. "I need your help," he said to Loki.

The deity raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"I need to disappear."

"I take it you're not asking me to make you invisible."

"No. I need to be completely undetectable by any of Heaven's agents."

"What'd you do?" Loki leaned across the table in eager fascination. "Break a few commandments?"

"No, I . . . I just couldn't take it anymore! I couldn't be part of all that fighting and what's to come, so . . . I left. I just walked away. And I need to stay gone. If they find me, they'll drag me back and put me to work. I can't do that! You owe me, Loke. Do you have a place I can hide out for, oh, the rest of eternity?"

"Ah. I understand. I've had my share of family conflicts myself. I can understand the need to get away from it all. I think we can work something out." He snapped his fingers, and a serving wench appeared. Literally appeared out of thin air. "Get my friend some of this delicious meat, and something strong to drink, and see that we're not disturbed."

The girl, who was blonde (pity), nodded and disappeared through another flap into what was presumably the establishment's kitchen.

"So you need a disguise?" Loki continued.

Gabriel shook his head. "Angels can see through any illusion to the being within. That's how we can recognize each other in a new vessel. I need something that will cloak my very self from everyone and everything. Can you do that?"

"Mmm . . ." Loki pressed his lips together and glanced up at the ceiling in thought. "No. I can't."

The archangel gaped at him. "Why?"

"Because the spell isn't self-renewing. I'd have to be beside you every minute of the day to keep it going. I like you, Gabe, but frankly, there are very few beings whose company I can tolerate that much. But I can teach you how to do it."

Hope sprang up in the depths of Gabriel's essence. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Absolutely. Might take a few months, but I think we can put up with you for that long. Meet my boys. This is Narfi."

Narfi was huge and hairy, clad only in a loincloth. He looked up at Gabriel and grunted.

"Fenrir."

Equally as big but not quite as hirsute, Fenrir wore leather armor and had two gorgeous women hanging off him.

"And the baby of the family, Sleipnir."

Sleipnir was much smaller than his brothers, slim and long-faced. Judging by the contents of his plate, he was a vegetarian, a rare thing in this time and place. He gave the angel a smile and a nod.

"We'll be glad to put you up while I teach you how to cloak yourself. It's not that hard, really, if you're powerful enough. You **are **powerful enough, aren't you?"

In response, Gabriel raised one hand and snapped his fingers.

All activity in the room stopped dead, save for the gods' table. There was not an indrawn breath nor a single sound in the air. The inn's patrons stood or sat where they were, as if frozen in place.

Loki nodded appreciatively. "Stopping time. Not bad. Can you rewind it?"

"Piece of cake. Mmm, cake." Gabriel forced himself to stop thinking about sugary confections and focus on the task at hand. He rotated his left hand several times counter-clockwise.

Time went rapidly backwards. The gentlemen at the next table filled their plates with food, which was taken away by the blonde serving girl, walking backwards to the kitchen entrance. When the barbarians raised their cups and filled them with fresh mead, Gabriel decided that was far enough. He stopped the motion of his hand, snapped, and time resumed in its usual direction, at the usual speed.

There was a cheeky round of applause from the demigods-except for Narfi, who was eyeing one of the barbarians eagerly. Loki noticed and nudged him.

"Not now," he said. "We've got more important things to do now."

There was a brief flash of daylight as the entrance flap opened, and two men stepped inside. No, not men. Gabriel felt their presence before he looked and saw . . .

"Oh, crap," he swore under his breath. "Not them!"

"Problem?" Loki asked.

"They're yours, aren't they?" asked Sleipnir. "I mean . . . angels."

"Not just any angels," said Gabriel. "The dark-haired one is my brother Balthazar. He's not the problem. The other one, the blond-"

"He's nice," said Narfi, licking his lips.

"That's Castiel."

"Your son," Loki nodded. Narfi at least had the decency to look apologetic.

"He's not my son. I raised him, but . . ."

"He knows you."

"Better than anyone. You have to get me out of here."

The two angels were scanning the room, and when Castiel's head turned in their direction, Gabriel ducked under the table, as if that would do any good. The serving girl came with another platter of meat, and Loki slipped her a few coins. "See those gentlemen that just came in? See if you can distract them for a few minutes. If you can manage it, there'll be more for you."

"Can I eat them?" asked Fenrir.

His father turned and looked at him slowly. "See," he said, "this is why I don't take you places. No, you can't eat them!"

"But-"

"No!"

Fenrir sank down in his seat, dejected.

Loki leaned over him to whisper to Sleipnir. "Take him out the back," he said. "Go to our place. I'll wait for you there after I've gotten rid of these two. And no, we're not killing them either!"

"You never let me have any fun!"

"Oh, shut up, Fen!"

A hand reached under the table, helping Gabriel crawl out. He dared to look over his shoulder as he followed Sleipnir towards the kitchen. The two angels were looking around the place, neither in his direction. Good. Time to get out of here while the getting was good.

Okay. The secret to getting into a place where you weren't supposed to be was to act like you were supposed to be there. Gabriel grabbed an empty tray off a nearby table and carried it flat in one hand.

"Gerta, take those kabobs to Table-" the cook said, slowly turning around. "You're not Gerta!"

"No, I'm so much better." He spotted Sleipnir on the other side of a huge cauldron and started to make his way around.

"Get out of here, you-!" The cook came after him with a huge knife, and Gabriel didn't waste time arguing that the weapon, unless wielded by an angel, was useless against him. He ran for the far end of the room and another of those skin flaps that signified a door-in this case, an exit. There was no sign of Sleipnir; he must be already outside.

When he fought his way through the heavy leather curtain, Gabriel found himself in the open. There was no one else there but a grey horse, sitting patiently as if waiting for its rider to return. The horse had no saddle, bridle, or any other bit of riding tack. Did it belong to someone, or was it wild?

_Climb on. We need to go now!_

The words appeared in his head without benefit of his ears. He looked at the horse.

The horse looked back at him.

"Sleipnir?"

_You don't need to speak out loud. I can hear your thoughts._

**_Like this?_**

_That's perfect. Get on, I'll take you home._

Gabriel looked down and noticed something off about this horse, and not just that he'd been a young man ten minutes ago. **_Why do you have eight legs?_**

Horses can't shrug, but Sleipnir tossed his head and made a noise to the same effect. _Why do you have six wings?_

**_You can see my wings?_**

_Of course. They're beautiful._

**_Thanks. _**He climbed on and gripped the horse's mane, not too tightly, he hoped. **_Let's go!_**

* * *

Balthazar did not seem at all comfortable in the crude dwelling that served as an inn in this time and place. "I'm tellin' you, kid, he's not here!"

"And I'm telling you," said Castiel, "he is! I felt him here!"

"What would he be doing here in bloody Sweden?"

"Norway."

"What?"

"Norway. Not Sweden."

"More like Snoreway, right?" Balthazar chuckled at his own joke until he noticed several of the inn's patrons glaring at him. "Just kidding, chaps! Lovely country. Lovely. Let's just find him," he hissed to Castiel out of the corner of his mouth, "and go!"

Cas shut his eyes and reached out with his grace. He had been looking for Gabriel for the better part of a year (in between Heaven's assignments) with no success, and then he was coming back from Lebanon when he felt it: a resonating grace signature that he **knew**. It couldn't have been any other angel. Cas put it this way when asked: if angels were colors, most would be pastels; shades of blue, green, and pink. Gabriel, however . . . Gabe was a vivid electric purple that stood out from the landscape like a zebra in a field of beans.

"Over there," he said, pointing to a table in the back. "He's there."

Balthazar took a look in the direction the kid was indicating. "No, he isn't."

"He **was**, then. Let's go find out if they know where he's gone."

"I'm not messin' with that bunch! I've heard the people in this country are-" He broke off abruptly as he noticed several of the patrons staring at him, waiting for the end of the sentence. "Fierce fighters," he finished. "Men of honor. Let them be and let's-Cas! Come back here!"

But Castiel was already halfway to the gods' table before his brother could stop him. He felt the immense power radiating off them before he recognized Loki, whom he'd never met but had heard Gabriel speak of many times. When he had reached the table, he went down on one knee and bowed his head. It couldn't hurt to be respectful to foreign gods in their own country.

"Greetings, Illustrious One," he said. He wasn't sure what form of honorific the Norse gods preferred, so he used an all-purpose term of respect. "I am-"

"I know who you are, Castiel. Come and sit with us." The Trickster God patted the seat that Gabriel had so recently vacated.

"Cas, no! Don't-" Balthazar whispered, before he noticed Fenrir staring at him hungrily. The sentence ended in a terrified "eep!"

"Both of you," said Loki, "are welcome. Sit. Eat."

"Or be eaten?"

"I assure you that won't happen. Come. We have much to discuss."

Balthazar sat between the god and his hungry offspring, trying not to look appetizing. He'd heard bad, bad things about these Norse gods. Probably some of them were lies spread to discredit them (though that wouldn't really get rolling until Christianity caught on further), but they couldn't all be untrue.

"I was . . . traveling," Castiel began, "and I felt Gabriel's grace signature. I traced it here. Please help me, I've been looking for him for so long! I know I felt him here!"

Loki looked regretful. "I'm afraid I haven't seen Gabriel for some time," he said, leaving off the words "until today."

"See?" Balthazar said. "He's not here. Let's go."

"But there is food!" Narfi pushed a platter full of glistening meat towards him. Balth tried not to imagine what kind of animal that meat had come from. He swallowed hard.

"We, um, we don't actually eat-"

Cas popped a small piece of meat into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "It's not bad," he said, when he had swallowed it.

"You can have anything you want," said Loki. "Entertainment, perhaps?" He snapped his fingers, and a half-dozen veiled beauties appeared and danced for them.

Balthazar sat up and took notice. "Well, now . . . this is all right, then. Do they do more than just dance?"

Castiel gave him a look that, if looks could smite, would have struck him dead on the spot.

"What, we can't have a little fun while we're here?"

"We're on a **mission**! We have to find Gabe! Everything's falling apart and he's the only one who can help!"

Loki sighed. "I wish I could help you. I really do. But I don't know where Gabriel is, I'm sorry to say. I'm afraid that energy signature that you felt . . . was me."

Cas stared at him. "No . . . that's not possible."

"Gods are nearly as powerful as archangels. You sensed a powerful energy, felt its connection to Gabriel, and drew the wrong conclusion. I wish it weren't true, but it is. I'm very sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am." The young angel looked heartbroken. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir. We'll go now."

Balthazar didn't move, still entranced by the dancing girls.

"I **said**, we're leaving!"

"What? Oh. Okay. I'll be right with you, squirt." Balthazar still made no move to get up from the table.

Cas sighed, grabbed his wayward brother by the arm, and dragged him out through the flap.

"Oh, well." Loki sighed. "Let's be off, boys." He signaled for the serving girl. "Can we get a bag for this, please?"

* * *

**_Why is no one staring at us? _**Gabriel "asked" Sleipnir as the horse thundered down what appeared to be a well-trafficked main street without so much as a second glance from anyone.

_They can't see us. I'm invisible to normal people when I'm in this form, and by extension, you're invisible, too._

**_So you're an eight-legged, telepathic, INVISIBLE horse?_**

_All the better not to distract people._

**_How much further?_**

_Not far now. See? Here we are._

The horse came to a stop outside a tiny dwelling that barely seemed big enough for one person, let alone four. Gabriel climbed down, and when he turned around, the horse had become a young man again.

"I know it doesn't look like much," he said. "But wait till you see the inside."

"Oh, wonderful. I bet you don't even have furniture."

Sleipnir just smiled and held the door-an actual door, not just a leather flap hanging in the opening-for him. Gabe took two steps inside and stopped dead in his tracks.

The place was a palace.

The ceilings had to be ten feet high. The entry hall was at least twice as big as his old apartment in Heaven, and directly before him was a grand staircase that seemed to go up forever. This was all impossible.

He took a step outside. Hovel.

Inside. Grand ballroom.

"How is this . . . here?" he found himself asking.

"It's just one of his little tricks," said Sleipnir. "He finds the cheapest, most run-down shack in town, and . . . fixes it up. One of the things he does is stretch the dimensions so that it's bigger on the inside than the outside."

"That's one trick I gotta learn."

A huge gilded archway big enough to accommodate an elephant led them into a dining room with a table the size of Noah's ark. At the head of the table was a chair that looked like a throne. Gabriel went to sit in it, but Sleipnir said, "No! That's Odin's seat!"

"Your grandfather? Does he live here?"

"No, but we have to keep a seat at the table for him in case he visits."

"How often does that happen?"

"Never, but . . . it might happen. Bet you can tell who the chair next to it's for, can't you?"

Gabe stared at the oaken monstrosity. It looked as if someone had hacked a huge section out of the middle of a tree and brought it directly inside, carving out a rough approximation of a seat. "That thing must weigh a ton."

"Only chair that'll hold the God of Thunder. He comes by every once in a while."

"Who gets to hold his hammer?"

"None of us. We're abominations; we're not worthy." He said it matter-of-factly, without a trace of emotion in his voice, but his eyes were a different story.

On the other side of the dining hall was a sitting room that looked more like a furniture showroom. Gabe counted twelve sofas, ten ottomans, and sixteen tables before he gave up and took a seat on the closest piece of furniture, a soft blue loveseat. "How long do you think they're gonna be?"

Sleipnir draped himself across the red velvet couch opposite. "Not long, I think. Father's very good at getting rid of people. Keeping them around when he needs them, now that's the trick."

"Not a people person, then?"

"If you mean humans, he loves them. He's great at dazzling them. Other gods, though, they see right through him. He's not as popular with them."

"Talking about me again?" Loki stood in the doorway, his sons flanking him.

Gabriel stood. "This is . . . quite a place you have here."

"You haven't seen the upstairs yet. But the grand tour can wait. I've figured out how to disguise you to keep you from Heaven's prying eyes. You will become . . ."

"Yes?"

"Me."

Gabe stared at him in confusion.

"You need to look like someone else. I need to take a break from my crazy family for a while. Say, two, three hundred years. By then your brothers should be finished with their little spat and you can go home. I'll give you my face and teach you the spell to cloak your grace signature, and in return, you stand in for me at boring functions and so forth."

"Great. Trading one dysfunctional family for another."

"I don't have much to do with them, normally. Only when it can't be avoided."

"You keep a seat at the table for your father."

"It's required. He never comes around. He summons me when he wants to see me. The only one who ever visits is Thor. Not the brightest spark in the tinder box, but his heart's in the right place. He's easy enough to deal with: give him enough mead and something to eat and he's fine. If he asks you to go on a quest, politely but firmly decline. It didn't end well last time."

"Okay." Gabriel wasn't into quests anyway. "And what's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"You're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart, or just because you want to escape your psycho family. What do you want from me?"

Loki smiled. "A promise. I want your word that if your brothers do manage to find you, you won't get involved in their squabble. Because I know that their fight means the end of the world, and I kinda like this place. The food is good. The ladies are enticing. And the best is yet to come! So stay out of Heaven's politics, and we're good."

"Don't worry about that," Gabe reassured him. "I'm so done with Mike and Luci's power struggles."

"I want you to swear the Unbreakable Oath, on your love of your Father."

"Fine. I swear, on the love of my Father, that I will never interfere with my brothers' war. Happy? Now, about that cloaking spell . . ."

As Loki outlined his grand plan, Gabriel only half-listened, thinking of all the amazing things he would get to see and do in this big wide world that his Father had created. Let Mike and Luci have their arguments. They didn't know what they were missing. Really, what could go wrong?


End file.
